


Breathe

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Wincest Drabbles [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Coda, Dean Ordering Sam, Fingering, Fluff, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e14 Coda, Top Sam Winchester, Wall Sex, Wincest - Freeform, Worried Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Inhale.Exhale.In.Out.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Cuz we all know I rewatched that scene like three times immediately after watching the episode

He couldn’t breathe.

That’s all that registered in Dean’s mind. One moment, they were talking to Donatello, watching and listening as he spouted more and more batshit crazy words. The next, Dean felt his throat closing up, air failing to go in or out. He gasped, reaching out for Sam. His brother at first dismissed Dean. But when Dean didn’t relent, blindly waving his hand at Sam and only taking in the fact that he was at least making contact, that’s when Sam gave him his attention.

“Dean?” Sam turned to look at him, confusion pulling his eyebrows together. Dean let out another gasp, trying in vain to drag in the much needed oxygen. Spots were starting to form in front of his eyes, his muscles were starting to go limp... “Dean!” Sam rushed forward, and just in time to catch him as he listed sideways. “Hey, hey!” He couldn’t reply - how could he, when he still couldn’t - “Hey! Hey!”

Sam was leading him outside. Was Donatello laughing? Sam, beside him, holding him up. Someone calling him name - a wall, behind him. Sam’s firm body in front. Holding on to him -

Dean inhaled. Air rushed to his lungs. His vision cleared. Dimly, he was aware of Cas running in, but he was too busy reveling in being able to breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Sam exhaled, his breath a hot puff of air against Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s nostrils flared.

oOo

They were finally in their bedroom after that clusterfuck of a day. Donatello was gone, Cas was... somewhere, and Sam -

Sam was latched onto Dean, and wasn’t letting go.

“Sam, you gotta—“ His eyes rolled up, lids closing in the process as Sam bit his lip harshly. Gasping, his hands flailed uselessly at where they’d fallen to his sides. Sam had his own hands at Dean’s hips, working under his shirt. The cold press of his hands against Dean’s warm torso had Dean pulling away with a hiss.

“Sam - seriously, man! What the hell?”

Sam didn’t let go. He was clenching his teeth. His fingers were practically digging holes into Dean’s belt, and he was glaring down at Dean’s chest as if it had personally offended him. Which, maybe it did. Who knew what went through that giant’s head.

“You sounded horrible.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“When Donatello pulled that spell on you or whatever, and you couldn’t,” he paused, stuttering, his gaze growing darker - making Dean temporarily fear for his chest - even as tears started to glisten in Sam’s eyes. “You sounded like—“ Sam looked up, and for a moment, Dean felt worse than he did in the dungeon. “You were dying.”

Aw, hell.

“Hey, hey, Sammy.” Dean drew his brother close, cradling his jaw in his hands and bringing Sam’s face close enough to rest their foreheads against each other. “I’m right here. I’m okay, I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam let out a sob. The sound of it crushed Dean’s heart, but he forced himself not to react, except to hold Sammy closer. “I was so scared that you - that something was going to happen, and—“

Unable to take it any longer, Dean pressed his lips against Sam’s.

Sam went rigid, but then his hands were working against Dean again. It was now that Dean realized his brother wasn’t simply trying to get his hands over whatever skin he could find, but he was reassuring himself that Dean was still here and okay. Ignoring the guilt niggling at the back of his mind, Dean took another step forward. With that, his chest was flush against Sam’s. His brother let his hand come to a stop, instead fingers now firmly pressing into Dean’s sides - there were definitely going to be bruises there later.

Dean was leading first, but as Sam grew hungrier, his brother took over, forcing Dean to submit and let him take control. Tongue pushing against Dean’s, he sucked and nipped, licking and grazing his teeth against Dean’s jawline. Dean wasn’t even aware that they were walking until his back hit the wall, right beside their bedroom door. He should probably lock it, in case Cas came back looking for them, but just as he thought that, Sam reached up, fingers slipping down the collar of his shirt. He tugged.

And ripped the shirt off of Dean.

“Motherf-Sa _am_.” It faded away into a breathy sigh as he immediately latched on to Dean’s neck, sucking a bruise there. Head lolling back, he let it thud against the wall, leaning to the side to let Sam have more space to work with. His hands rebooted long enough to reach up a little farther and tangle themselves in Sam’s hair. He mussed  it up before his mind went back to being offline as Sam lowered himself to bite at Dean’s nipple.

Dean moaned. His knees started to buckle, prompting Sam to straighten and flatten Dean against the wall. He was about to make a noise of protest, when he felt the first tear land against his bare shoulder.

“Sam?” His voice was quiet, hardly daring to believe - not wanting to risk triggering Sam into a full blown panic attack. Not when his cock was still heavy between his legs, all thanks to Sam, but even that was wilting in the face of Sam crying on his shoulder. “Hey, Sammy, look at me, man. C’mon?” But Sam only shook his head. His hands cupped Dean’s jean clad ass. It took him a few seconds, and then another few more to make sure that Sam was really asking for that right now, but then he was spreading his legs anyway, jumping up to wrap them around Sam’s hips.

“I don’t—“ Sam paused, face still out of view. He brought his hands up to lean against the wall by his Dean head, forcing his brother to latch his arms around Sam’s neck in an effort not to fall. “I hated seeing you like that.” Sam finally whispered.

He had a feeling he knew where Sam was taking this now. “Sam. Look at me.” His tone brook no space for arguments, the same tone he’d used many times before on his brother when growing up. It made Sammy finally look up, though he still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Let me down.”

Sam’s breath hitched. He looked at Dean before he could stop himself, and in that moment, Dean could see the panic in his eyes. But he didn’t bother looking away. Neither one of them did.

After a moment, Sam slumped down, positioning himself in a way that enabled Dean to slide down.

With the same voice he’d used to tell Sammy to do his homework, to pick up his dirty socks, to aim for the middle school bully’s groin next time, Dean ordered his brother.

“Sammy. Take off my pants.”

At first, it didn’t look like Sam registered what Dean said. A second passed, two - and then Sammy was unbuckling him. He shoved his pants down so hard it was almost painful. His hands started to reach for Dean’s boxers next when Dean stopped him.

“Shoes off first.”

Visibly forcing himself to calm down, shaky hands reached for Dean’s boots. They unlaced, shoulders firm under Dean’s hands as Sam supported his brother. One foot went up, the boot falling to the ground, discarded. The other one was soon to follow, but by the time Sam was tugging Dean’s pants off his ankles without being ordered, his hands regained steadiness. They were almost reverent as they ran over Dean’s calves, guiding the pants off instead of shoving this time. For the second time then, Dean found himself swallowing as his eyes closed, trying to prevent his own tears as his head fell back against the wall again.

Fingers stroked his legs as Sam came back up. Dean fisted his hands in his shirt and pulled him forward, kissing his brother again. This time, neither led, and neither submitted. They both gave and took equally, before Dean gently pushed Sam away again. A thin line of saliva connected their lips before Sam rocketed forward, nipping at Dean’s lips once more, breaking the seal.

He pressed his hands against Sam’s torso, holding him away.

Dean cleared his throat, brain working furiously as he tried to remember why they weren’t kissing.

“Clothes. Your turn.”

Barely coherent. But it got the message across.

Sam started removing his clothes. His impatient movements had Dean wincing in sympathy when he heard more than a few stitches give. He had to hold back an amused snort when Sam tried to pull off his own jeans without taking his boots off, nearly sending Sam tumbling backwards onto his bed. But then Sam slammed his hands back on the wall by Dean’s head. He’d moved so fast, Dean felt himself stop breathing, almost preparing for an attack.

But Sam was only staring down at him with hungry eyes, his jaw still clenched tightly.

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Get down on your knees.” Dean said. His throat being hoarse, Dean swallowed. “Blow me.”

Sam’s jaw dropped.

He dropped to his knees anyway. Dean could hear him swallow thickly before fingers were tugging at his boxers, easing them down. His cock was pulled free, standing erect. With the cold air against it, Dean let his eyes close.

“Suck me.”

A hot puff of air against his cock. Dean exhaled. A tongue lapping at the head, teasing. Testing.

Dean inhaled.

Hands reached down blindly, wrapping hair around fingers.

Wet heat sucking at the head. Dean’s hips bucked. His fingers tightened. Below him, Sam let out a moan. The vibrations ran through his cock. Dean gasped, mouth falling slack.

Sam sucked him down to the root. Dean groaned aloud, breathing erratic. Puffs of air escaped him in short bursts. His body was barely remembering to keep breathing, to inhale. Exhale.

Sam sucked harder.

In.

One of Sam’s hands crept below to play with Dean’s balls. Hips bucking again, he shoved himself deeper down Sam’s throat, moans escaping Dean without his knowledge. Sam’s other hand came up, and two fingers were pushed into Dean’s mouth. His jaw closing, Dean sucked in his cheeks, salivating, sucking in rhythm with Sam. He was breathing through his nose again.

Out.

His cock pulsed, ready to spill down Sam’s throat. But not yet.

In.

Dean’s mouth fell open, releasing Sam’s fingers.

Out.

“Sam, get up.” Sam only sucked harder, and Dean let out a low yell. He barely just managed to stop himself from coming. “Sam. Up.”

With an obscene pop, Sam slid off, looking up at him hopelessly. Breathing heavily, Dean pulled his hands free from his hair, thumbing the tears away from Sam’s cheeks.

“Stand.”

On unsteady feet, Sam rose. Dean supported him with a hand against his bicep. Pulling him closer, he let Sam lean against him. Leading Sam’s hand by the wrist, he guided the wet fingers to his hole.

“Prep me.”

Sam stopped breathing.

He inhaled. Exhaled.

He pushed in.

Dean hummed. Letting his brother work his magic, he surrendered himself to the feeling of being stretched, absently massaging Sam’s scalp, craning his neck wen Sam rested his forehead on his shoulder. A second finger pushed in, and Dean paused, then tried to push back into the feeling. A hand on his hip held him in place. He rolled his eyes behind closed lids, but continued to massage Sam’s scalp anyway.

Sam’s fingers pulled free. Before he could stop himself, Dean let out a whine, exhaling loudly in annoyance. His cheeks burned when he realized what he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it when he felt Sam smile against his shoulder.

Lifting his head up slightly, Sam met Dean’s eyes before putting his fingers in his mouth. The fingers that were in Dean’s asshole.

Air. What was air?

His own mouth watering, he watched as Sammy sucked on three fingers, four.

A pop, just like when Sam pulled free from his cock, this time his fingers the source of the sound. His hand disappeared from view, fingers pressed against Dean’s asshole.

Dean let out a gasp, a puff of air landing against Sam’s shoulder as Dean let his head drop there, pushing his ass out into Sam’s hand.

Three fingers. Stretching.

In.

Curling.

Out.

Stretching - oh. There was his prostrate. Dean gasped, back arching. His nipples brushed against Sam’s skin. Sam hummed, pleased sound. The hand that wasn’t currently working within him curled around his hip, holding Dean closer, joining their hips, bringing their cocks into contact.

In.

Sam tugged his fingers out. Growling, Dean tugged at Sam’s hair, impatient. Sucking at Dean’s neck, Sam reached for Dean’s legs again, and hoisted him up. Dean wrapped his legs around his brother’s waist. Taking another step, Dean was pressed flat against the wall. With Sam breathing heavily down his chest, he reached down, guiding his cock, and pressing it to Dean’s hole. He pushed in.

Out.

It didn’t take them long to establish a steady rhythm. With Sam steadily thrusting in him, it didn’t take long for Dean to be brought back to the edge, teetering, ready to fall.

“Don’t—“ Sam grunted, thrusting harder into Dean. He was hitting Dean’s prostrate spot on at every other thrust. It made it hard for Dean to concentrate on whatever it was Sammy wanted to say. “Don’t you dare—“

“—Whatever you want, Sammy.” A whimper escaped him. “Anything for you.” His hands dropped, nails scratching Sam’s back.

Sam gasped. His hand came up, and wrapped itself around Dean’s throat.

In.

Sam squeezed.

“No one. No one.”

Sam let go.

Dean came with a shout.

Out.

“Only me. Only I get to—“ Sam curled into himself as he came, shooting into Dean.

In.

“Yeah-Sammy, yeah. Only you.” Sam thrusted a few more times, weaker. Dean pulled his head back up, and pressed their lips together.

Out.


End file.
